On the Coast of CoromandelWhere the early pumpkins blow,In the middle of the woodsLived the Yonghy-Bonghy-BÑ‚.Two old chairs, and half a candle,--One old jug without a handle,--These were all his worldly goods:In the middle of the woods,These were all the worldly goods,Of the Yonghy-Bonghy-BÑ‚,Of the Yonghy-Bonghy-BÑ‚.

II

Once, among the Bong-trees walkingWhere the early pumpkins blow,To a little heap of stonesCame the Yonghy-Bonghy-BÑ‚.There he heard a Lady talking,To some milk-white Hens of Dorking,--''Tis the lady Jingly Jones!'On that little heap of stones'Sits the Lady Jingly Jones!'Said the Yonghy-Bonghy-BÑ‚,Said the Yonghy-Bonghy-BÑ‚.

III

'Lady Jingly! Lady Jingly!'Sitting where the pumpkins blow,'Will you come and be my wife?'Said the Yonghy-Bonghy-BÑ‚.'I am tired of living singly,--'On this coast so wild and shingly,--'I'm a-weary of my life:'If you'll come and be my wife,'Quite serene would be my life!'--Said the Yonghy-Bonghy-BÑ‚,Said the Yonghy-Bonghy-BÑ‚.

IV

'On this Coast of Coromandel,'Shrimps and watercresses grow,'Prawns are plentiful and cheap,'Said the Yonghy-Bonghy-BÑ‚.'You shall have my chairs and candle,'And my jug without a handle!--'Gaze upon the rolling deep('Fish is plentiful and cheap)'As the sea, my love is deep!'Said the Yonghy-Bonghy-BÑ‚,Said the Yonghy-Bonghy-BÑ‚.

'Though you've such a tiny body,'And your head so large doth grow,--'Though your hat may blow away,'Mr. Yonghy-Bonghy-BÑ‚!'Though you're such a Hoddy Doddy--'Yet a wish that I could modi-'fy the words I needs must say!'Will you please to go away?'That is all I have to say--'Mr. Yonghy-Bonghy-BÑ‚!'Mr. Yonghy-Bonghy-BÑ‚!'.

VIII

Down the slippery slopes of Myrtle,Where the early pumpkins blow,To the calm and silent seaFled the Yonghy-Bonghy-BÑ‚.There, beyond the Bay of Gurtle,Lay a large and lively Turtle,--'You're the Cove,' he said, 'for me'On your back beyond the sea,'Turtle, you shall carry me!'Said the Yonghy-Bonghy-BÑ‚,Said the Yonghy-Bonghy-BÑ‚.

IX

Through the silent-roaring oceanDid the Turtle swiftly go;Holding fast upon his shellRode the Yonghy-Bonghy-BÑ‚.With a sad primÐ¶val motionTowards the sunset isles of BoshenStill the Turtle bore him well.Holding fast upon his shell,'Lady Jingly Jones, farewell!'Sang the Yonghy-Bonghy-BÑ‚,Sang the Yonghy-Bonghy-BÑ‚.

X

From the Coast of Coromandel,Did that Lady never go;On that heap of stones she mournsFor the Yonghy-Bonghy-BÑ‚.On that Coast of Coromandel,In his jug without a handleStill she weeps, and daily moans;On that little hep of stonesTo her Dorking Hens she moans,For the Yonghy-Bonghy-BÑ‚,For the Yonghy-Bonghy-BÑ‚.